Bruises
by Ardsta
Summary: Mr. Lancer is curious about Daniel's constant injuries, but he isn't ready for everything that will happen after he asks about them.
1. Chapter 1

You could barely see it under the red lining of his shirt sleeve. It was very faint, but it looked at least a couple of days old. But it hadn't been there the day before, not this large bruise.

It couldn't have been Dashiel. I know he's a bully, most of the teachers do, but we can never pin anything large enough to actually suspend him. Most of the students are afraid of him, so they don't come to us to explain anything, either, even with the multitudes of lessons on bullying and how to stop it. Still, he's not the bully that actually harms kids, he just uses his muscle to intimidate. No, he goes for the embarrassment route, and is definitely the curator of the photo of Daniel's underpants being hung on the flag pole instead of the flag. No one could pin that to him, unfortunately, otherwise he would have suffered enormous consequences.

I'm becoming sidetracked, though.

The point it, Dashiel could not of caused this injury, nor could he have caused the bruises I constantly see on Daniel's body. He often comes to class late, rubbing the back of his neck. There are four, long, skinny, curved bruises imprinted in his skin which he's trying (and mostly failing) to cover. Faint strangling marks on one of my students two out of every five days a week. He came with those today in addition to the bruise on his right arm.

I knew I needed to do something. I hadn't acted soon enough, probably, but it was better to intervene later than never at all, lest he end up killed. "Mr. Fenton, I need to see you after school today," I explained to him as I handed out the latest quiz. Daniel looked at his grade and sighed, grimacing slightly. Whether it was from telling him to stay after class or from the sixty-eight percent on the quiz, I didn't know. As I grabbed a new piece of chalk from my painted metallic desk and went to the blackboard to start class, I saw Tucker and Sam give Daniel a sympathetic glance, which he returned with a thankful smile.

I started on my planned lesson for the day, thankful that one of the most notorious skippers was in my class for the lesson instead of doing whatever it was he did to get those bruises. Well, at least for now.

When Mr. Fenton walked into my classroom, I was surprised, to say the least. I had completely forgotten that I had planned to talk to Daniel about his constant injuries after school today. It must've been completely obvious that the meeting had slipped my mind by the first comment he uttered when he slung his bag across the back of a desk chair and sat on the desktop.

"You wanted to talk to me after school Mr. Lancer?" Daniel asked, rubbing the back of his neck, tired bags from lack of sleep clearly showing on his skinny, pale face.

"Yes. I did," I declared, rising from my desk chair. I walked over to him and crossed my arms. "Mr. Fenton, I noticed that you had an extremely large bruise on your right arm during class today." Daniel looked at me, a confused expression on his face. "May I ask where you got it from?" I questioned gently. He bit his lip and looked at his elbow. He became a little less tense, but kept rubbing the back of his neck. I realized he was pretending to be nervous then, and most likely had pretended to be confused.

"What bruise?" He asked. He held out his right arm on the desk and rolled up his sleeve. To my astonishment, there was no bruise on his skin. Maybe he hadn't been pretended to be confused.

"You had a big purple mark during class, Mr. Fenton," I stammered out. I was thinking about how he could hide such a remarkable injury when he responded.

"Oh!" Daniel exclaimed. "That was a red mark. Jazz gave me a ride to school, and I sat on my arm for the entire ride. I guess that could've looked like a bruise," he reasoned. I looked at him skeptically and he blinked and kept looking back at me. I could've sworn I heard him gasp almost inaudibly and saw a mist in the air for a split second. Daniel looked at the clock on the wall and jumped off of his makeshift seat, grabbing his backpack. "Sorry Mr. Lancer, I gotta go. See you tomorrow!" Daniel waved slightly before racing down the hall and bursting out of the school. I scratched my head.

I didn't believe him, that mark was almost certainly a bruise. But he clearly looked confused, and his arm was as healthy as a thin teenager's arm should've been. Maybe I was going crazy, but I knew to pay special attention to his health from then on.

The next day, a faint scar could be seen running down the length of Daniel's lower arm if a person just so happened to look closely at Daniel enough. Once again, at the end of the day, when I called him in, the injury was gone and Daniel had an explanation. I didn't buy this story, though. A bruise is easier to explain away; a deep scratch wound, not so much. Still, I had no evidence he was lying, and no reason to keep him after school. So, I had to let him go.

He wasn't injured the day after, though I kept him after school so he could serve a detention for being late. The next day, he was injured, but I decided to not call him in. He would come in, some days with a bruise, some without, and most of the time he was late. I'd call him in once a week, asking about his strange, disappearing injuries, but he never explained them. He stopped making excuses, though, and didn't really try to hide them from me. He knew I caught on, and I thought maybe I'd made a mistake for calling him out at all.

I never did build a rapport with him, never attempted to build trust. Like a fool, I assumed he would trust me, especially after I let him retake his exam last year.

I figured out that calling Daniel in was a good idea when the ghosts attacked.

Daniel had another set of strangling marks that day, what looked like a burn mark poking out of his now long-sleeved shirt, and an ever-so-slight favor of his right foot. His mouth was trying to stay in a smile, but his eyes were downcast, grimacing. Unusually, he was actually attempting to hide this part of his injury from me. He sat at his seat quietly, doodling on his note page instead of taking notes like he usually did.

Yes, I noticed that even though he does poorly on tests, he seems to take extremely good notes. I'm not surprised; when he's studied for any exam or project with me he brings his own notes to study off of because they're detailed and make sense to him. He does well whenever he does that, and I think it's the only reason he's passing the class. Otherwise, he does poorly. I have never understood it, as I know he isn't signed up for any extracurriculars involved with the school. I guess he could be doing activities outside of school, but I doubt it.

Yet he doesn't do homework, doesn't study on his own, and subsequently fails or half-finishes most of his work.

But I'm going off on a tangent again.

As I passed out yet another quiz where Daniel had barely passed, I saw the quick sketches out of the corner of my eye. They were all of ghosts that haunted Amity, except for one. Danny Phantom. There were even two I didn't remember seeing. One was big, black, and had ram horns. Another was humanoid, had flaming hair, and he'd drawn the symbol that Danny Phantom has on his chest. But it wasn't Danny Phantom. This was the one sketch that worried me the most: it was the most detailed, the one that nobody had seen or heard of. I had heard of the black one, but I had never seen it. The flaming hair ghost I hadn't even heard of. Not by any ghost hunters.

Suddenly, a thought hit the back of my mind, one that would make sense. Could ghosts be tormenting Daniel because his parents are ghost hunters? This thought seemed the most logical. He wouldn't tell anyone about it because the ghost could've threatened anyone he told. The bruises would fade quicker because, according to the Fentons, ectoplasmic injuries hurt more at the time of injury, but healed faster because the body got rid of the ghostly ectoplasm, a toxic substance, extremely efficiently. I almost cheered out loud. I had figured Daniel out, could actually confront him about it. I let him know to drop by after school.

The ghosts attacked thirty minutes until the end of the first class. There were two. One was the Box Ghost. Everybody had known the Box Ghost by then, as he was the only ghost that Phantom could scare away with just a look. Nobody screamed or even looked remotely scared. Most of the students looked confused. Daniel was banging his head against his desk in annoyance. I grabbed a textbook from the bookshelf next to my desk and went over to swat the pesky ghost. He flew away with one of his infamous "Beware"s.

The other was a new ghost, one nobody had seen, I guess other than Daniel. It was the exact ghost he had drawn. The ghost had come intangibly through the floor under Daniel's desk, grabbing Daniel by his neck and choking him, pinning him against the ceiling. He blasted the door handle with ectoplasm that somehow melted the metal. Daniel looked at the ghost in more of surprise than terror, like all of his peers. Well, and me. The ghost hissed something in Daniel's ear and his looked hardened. He whispered something into the ghost's ear and the ghost just smiled tauntingly. The ghost swung Daniel around and let him fly across the room. Daniel's back slammed into the wall and he crumpled to the floor. He winced and stood up shakily, while the other ghost just floated there, a confident expression clearly etched on his face.

When Daniel didn't do anything other than stand, the ghost frowned. He looked around and smirked when his eyes landed on a specific young woman. Daniel snarled as the ghost picked up Samantha and held her by her neck. "Let. Her. Go," Daniel demanded menacingly. I turned towards him, shock written in my face as well as on the other students' expressions, except for Samantha and Tucker.

"Make me," The ghost goaded, still smirking. Daniel scowled and hopped over the desk with ease and grace that he was unknown for but I had thought he might posses. He punched the ghost in the face and the ghost let go of Samantha. Crouching next to his friend, Daniel carefully tended to Sam.

However, the ghost was barely hurt by the punch. He flew over to Daniel and kicked the teen, giving Daniel a nice lump on the back of his head. Daniel swiveled and pushed Samantha underneath a desk. Tucker scurried over to his injured friend and started to take over tending to Samantha, though she did most of the work herself.

Daniel sprung forwards and gave an incredibly precise roundhouse kick to the ghost's face, flinging him up to crash against the ceiling. The ghost fell down right into Daniel's well aimed powerful punch. The ghost crashed against the wall, but quickly recovered. He sent a green ray out of his hand towards Daniel, who dodged.

They exchanged blows and dodges, each countering the other's strikes. Daniel's fighting was top-notch, surpassing Ms. Grey's or even his own mother's skills. The two fought for a long time. Nobody called the Fenton's, they knew from the start of the fight Daniel was much better than his parents ever were.

However, Daniel eventually became worn down. He was fighting a ghost, and he is human. He never stopped fighting until the ghost shocked him and threw his limp body against the windows. Daniel was scratched, bruised, and bloodied. He was still very much breathing, though, a testament to the endurance he never showed.

I had been wrong, though close, in my previous assessment of Daniel's problem. He wasn't being attacked because his parents hunted ghosts. Daniel was attacked because he hunted ghosts.


	2. Chapter 2

We couldn't escape, the ghost made sure of it. And now, our only defender looked gravely injured, and almost unable to stand. He tried in vain while the ghost laughed at him, but he grunted in pain and slid back to the floor.

Daniel stared directly at the ghost, fearless and angered. The "wimpy" kid, the one teased and bullied most often by his peers, was still saving his classmates. His bravery and righteousness was emanating from him in waves that stunned most everyone in the room. No one would've described Daniel as brave, nor righteous.

Not even me.

The ghost approached Daniel, kneeling to reach his height, and firmly grasped his chin. Daniel tried to kick the ghost's chest, but the creature caught Daniel's foot and flipped the boy over. With a groan, Daniel spun onto his back.

"Why?" He spit out, voice low and dangerous.

"Because, you deserve to be reminded of who you are," the ghost replied, a laugh forming. Daniel, who looked angry before, looked positively murderous. "And what are you gonna do about it, Danny-boy? You'll become m-"

The ghost was cut off by two beams of green energy which pushed him into the windows. Daniel took the opportunity to shove him to the back of the room, and sat up. "Thanks, guys," he panted.

Sam and Tucker. Under the desk. I had completely forgotten about them, though it seems like daniel hadn't. Unfortunately, the ghost was hardly incapacitated, and turned his ire towards the pair. He started firing, and Sam used her desk as cover while Tucker slid to another, firing shots from out of the range of the ghost's blast. He cried out in angered pain and turned towards Tucker, while Sam shot at him. Growling, the ghost raised a shield around him and backed up, while Tucker discreetly slid Daniel's backpack towards him, seemingly without the ghost noticing.

"You two deserve to die. For a third time!" The ghost screeched. He charged a blast, and Tucker and Sam looked towards Daniel with confused faces for a moment before starting to shoot at the ghost again. Daniel ignored the two in favor of rummaging through his backpack before pulling out a thermos and an ectoplasmic gun that against school rules, but seemed to be the best option the class had at the moment for survival.

"Things Fall Apart, Mr. Fenton!" I clamped my hand over my mouth as the ghost, wide-eyed, stopped charging his beam and turned towards me and Daniel. A mistake, a huge one. I was about to get the entire class killed. Mr. Fenton didn't sigh, didn't look nervous or annoyed at me, however. He rose to his feet, without a grimace somehow, and started firing his weapon at the ghost. The first blast crashed through the shield and it dissolved. The next blast hit, and the powerful blasts made the ghost scream in agony. I looked away and covered my ears, mostly because I couldn't stand the sight of gore.

In the parking lot, which I could see from the corner of the window, teenagers looked bored as they stood in the plans the school had for evacuating when a ghost attack happened. No one else was moving towards the group, which I took to mean that everyone who could get out was out of the building.

This meant two things. One, that we were most likely the only class still in the building; and two, Madeline and Jack Fenton would arrive at any moment to attempt to catch this ghost. Which was too hard for their son, who was obviously better, to catch.

I uncovered my ears and looked back at the scene. Wherever Daniel had hit the ghost with his gun would dissolve, slowly, that part of the ghost. The creature had to spend all of its effort to heal itself and put up shield after shield of energy to not be destroyed.

Still, the thing persisted. It charged Daniel, and successfully grabbed him. He swatted the gun out of his hands like a toy and blasted it with so much ectoplasm that the weapon exploded into green, ghostly flames for a minute before petering out. The ghost grinned and started swinging Daniel around in a circle, Sam and Tucker looking on without being able to help for fear of hitting their friend. The ghost slammed Daniel into the corner, his head snapping forward and back folding him in half with a resounding crack.

He looked dead. Unblinking, nose bleeding profusely, bent in an unnatural position. Two simultaneous cries of "Danny!" came from his friends as the ghost smiled wickedly at them, and at the rest of the class. He was almost triumphant in his glory as he turned away from the child that kept him at bay and us safe for so long.

But a small bump from the corner came, as Daniel stirred. It was unnatural. He should have been dead, from the enormous whiplash he experienced to how he must've punctured his both lungs in several places. The ghost was looking at him, more astonished than anyone in the class was.

"How are you still alive?" He bellowed, disturbed and distraught. Daniel raised his head, a light smile on his face.

"I have something to fight for," he answered quietly. Somehow, slowly, he stood. Somehow, the ghost looked more scared than Daniel did. Somehow, I just knew, deep down, that Daniel wasn't an ordinary ghost hunter. Though what he was, I had no clue. The ghost looked pissed, and Daniel smirked a little. "Do not say your family. Again," he ranted, pacing towards the teen.

Again? Daniel had fought this thing? And won? Daniel?

"Not just my family. Not just for my friends. For everyone," he responded. The ghost snarled, and started to open his mouth. Sam and Tucker, surprisingly enough, turned and yelled at everyone.

"Cover your ears!" They slapped their hands over and hunched, bracing themselves. Everyone, unquestioningly, obeyed. We all looked away, too, bracing for some impact that we didn't know was coming and the ghost hunters did.

Covering my ears certainly helped, though I could hear the howl, loud, painfully sad, and physically harmful. I shuddered at the noise, feeling paralyzed. But almost at the same time it started, a blinding flash of white covered the entire room and the howl intensified, sounding like two people were making that horrible noise. I couldn't help it, and it seemed like most of the students couldn't help it either.

We looked towards the fight, able to move once again.

Daniel was gone, nowhere to be seen. In his place was Phantom, the real Phantom and not this evil-looking version. I could only assume the ghost had pulled him through a wall while I was looking away so that he wouldn't be hurt anymore than he already was.

Phantom and the ghost were locked in a battle, howling sound waves pushing each other in a Harry Potter-esque moment that stunned me. Phantom, though, had more power. His eyes turned an icy blue and the green waves started to intertwine with blue energy, looking like a blizzard. The other ghost's waves faltered before disappearing altogether, and he was thrown back like a ragdoll to hit the other side of the classroom and into my desk, crashing into a crumble. Phantom panted, and a circular, white ring started to form around his waist. He concentrated by closing his eyes, and the circle dissolved into midair. The ghost coughed as he started to rise, but Phantom charged a blue burst of energy and froze the ghost's feet to the ground.

"Since when did we have an ice core? I never got that power," he wheezed out.

"Since we were never the same people," Phantom growled out. He held out the thermos Daniel had and powered it up. Unfortunately, the ghost wasn't quite done. He blasted the tool out of Phantom's hands and blasted Phantom, too. Sam scrambled over to get the thing and Phantom roared in discontent, charging a green beam that was too bright to look at and blasting the ghost with it. When I turned back after the beam had been done charging, four things happened, almost simultaneously

Sam turned the thermos on and sucked the ghost into it while he cried out.

Phantom fell to the floor.

The ring appeared around Phantom's waist, split into two, and they moved away from one another towards his head and feet to reveal Daniel Fenton.

The door burst open and the Fentons busted it in to see the previous things happen, too.

* * *

 _Oh boy. A part 3 should happen soon. It's already written, pretty much. Just have to fix a few things. Does a week sound like a good deadline to you guys? It does to me._

 _-Ardsta_


	3. Chapter 3

The only person making a sound was Daniel groaning in pain, and curling up in a ball. Everyone else was silent. Sam and Tucker were the first ones to move, checking to make sure their friend, who was also apparently a ghost, was okay.

This revelation made so much more sense than the theory I had come up with. Loose ends in my idea, like how he wasn't on the news, which ghosts he was fighting, why his parents didn't seem to know or care, all were tied up. He was on the news, just as Phantom. He fought the same ghosts Phantom did because he was Phantom. His parents didn't know what was going on with his academia because they didn't know he was Phantom. Otherwise, their charade of hating him and being mad at their son for his poor grades was a fantastically planned idea to throw the public off of the idea that their son could be Phantom.

If the public ever figured out humans could also be ghosts before now.

Though this revelation also lead to many, many more questions. How did Daniel become Phantom? How can that happen? Why Daniel? Were there any others? Why did he rob banks and kidnap the mayor? Why did he not tell his parents?

It didn't matter, the questions flashed through my head in seconds and as Sam and Tucker reached Daniel, his parents pointed their guns at him. "Sam, Tucker, be careful! We don't know if that's Danny or not!" Madeline cried, stepping into the room. Well, Madeline and Jack definitely didn't know Daniel was Phantom before now.

Dutifully (or dangerously, I guess it depends on your perspective), Samantha and Tucker blocked their downed friend from his parents.

"Why are you protecting a dangerous ghost?" Jack asked, lowering his weapon.

"He's not just a ghost," Samantha spat, angrily.

"He's Danny, your son" Tucker added.

"And he's not dangerous," Samantha continued.

"Sam, that Phantom menace is overshadowing Danny, obviously," Maddie said, trying to appeal to their sensible side. It was a possibility I hadn't even considered.

"Ghosts can't overshadow humans and shape shift, anyway. It's not possible," Daniel said, slowly standing, hands in the air.

"Shut up, Danny," chorused his friends. Daniel rolled his eyes, hands still raised.

"Sam, Tucker, Phantom robbed a bank and kidnapped the mayor. Danny wouldn't do that, so it must be Phantom overshadowing him," Jack explained gently, inching forwards. The group took a step back.

"Danny was being controlled by the Circus Gothica ringmaster, Freakshow," Tucker explained.

"And if you would even look at the video of Danny's," Samantha raised her hands and used air quotes for the next word, "robbery, the mayor's eyes were red, which is an indication of overshadowing, and he's actually holding Danny to make it look like Danny is kidnapping the mayor."

"In fact, he saved the mayor that day," Tucker added.

"Plus, if Danny was being overshadowed, his eyes would be green," Sam explained, continuing, "Ghosts cannot change their eye color, even when overshadowing humans. Or haven't you noticed?"

Maddie replied strongly, "But Phantom's eyes, when controlling his ice powers, are light blue."

"They'd be glowing if I was overshadowed," Danny said in a sing-song voice. His defenders glared at him. Daniel gulped. "Okay, okay. Shutting up." Samantha and Tucker swiveled back to the Fenton parents.

Jack and Madeline didn't look the least bit convinced. They pushed forwards, and the group backed up all the way to the windows, to the point where his peers scurried out of the way. They didn't leave, though; it was too interesting, too mind-boggling to want to turn away and leave. The Fentons were trying to capture their son to rid him of a ghost he claimed he was. No curious person would ever leave this room.

Unfortunately, this is when the situation escalated even further. Two voices came from down the hall, running towards this room. "He's in there, Agent O!"

"We'll finally catch the damn thing!"

Daniel's expression dropped, his face contorting into a look of total betrayal and sadness. "You called the Guys in White?" he asked quietly.

"Of course we did! Why wouldn't we?" Jack responded with confused gusto. The two agents, in pristine white suits, skittered into the room. They dead-stopped, jaws slack at the scene in front of them.

"What's going on?" they demanded, weapons at the ready, but unsure of whether to point them at Daniel or not. Madeline turned, responding.

"Our son is being overshadowed by the ectoplasmic entity known as Danny Phantom. He is being defended by my son's friends who claim that Phantom is not overshadowing my son, and that they are one in the same."

"Phantom is a halfa?"

"Excuse me, Agent O. A what-a?" Jack asked.

"Halfa," Danny responded to the question slowly, eyes as wide as saucers, "half-human, half-ghost. That's what I am." He turned his head to address the agents, eyes narrowing. "How did you find out about halfas?"

The other agent responded. "Showenhower, the freak, proved to be extremely trustworthy and knowledgeable. He was also a halfa, though a weak one who had no ghost form and powers limited to be able to control ghostly objects unlike full humans."

At this, Daniel, Samantha, and Tucker all looked extremely surprised.

"You are the most powerful halfa we've ever encountered, by far," the agent continued. "Though your actions now make sense, for all the information we've gathered about you."

Agent O cocked his weapon, aiming it at Daniel, while Jack and Madeline moved out of the line of fire. "Daniel Fenton, A.K.A Danny Phantom, you are under arrest for violating the Ecto Suppression Act article two section 23, which states that ectoplasmic entities are not allowed to be in the human world. You are going to come with us immediately."

The other agent also aimed his weapon, though at Samantha and Tucker, to the protests of Jack and Madeline. "Furthermore, if you or either of your friends refuse to comply with these demands, you are all breaking ESA's article three section 1, which gives the Guys in White full authority to make arrests with probable cause of any person who might have ectoplasmic contamination or might be an ectoplasmic entity."

Jack immediately blocked the second agent's fire. "Why are you aiming an ecto weapon at a human?" he asked incredulously.

"Out of the way. Otherwise we might have to arrest you, as well," Agent O demanded.

"Not until you answer my question!"

"We have the full authority to arrest these children. If we need to threaten them with weapons so that they won't escape, we will do so," Agent O explained. Jack relented, and the adults turned back to Daniel.

Or where he had been. He, Samantha, and Tucker were gone.

* * *

 _So if you got here from my one-shot collection, I said this would be a three chapter story. Uhh, that plan flew out the window very very quickly. I'm not sure how many more chapters this will have, though it won't be that many. I think._

 _Next chapter to be posted at latest by March 16. I would like to say March 9, but I have a busy week ahead of me. See you all then!_


	4. Chapter 4

The room exploded into chatter and arguing that was so loud and overwhelming that I couldn't really quite comprehend everything was going on. My senses were overloading with the sheer amount of noise that I closed my eyes. I needed to stop this.

"Animal Farm, people be quiet!" I yelled, my voice somehow booming across the entire room, silencing everyone. They looked towards me, still quiet chatter in the background, all from my students. "Should we not exit the building?" I asked, pointing at the door that seemed to have been broken so Madeline and Jack could enter the room without touching the melted, burn-inducing doorknob.

"Yes, though you will not be exiting to the field for your standard evacuation procedures. Everyone needs to come with us," explained Agent O. Bursts of protests started to emerge, but his voice raised enough to continue over the protests of my students. "You're not in trouble, but you are witnesses and acquaintances of a dangerous group of criminals. We need your statements as evidence to get an arrest warrant against the humans of this group. So, if you would please…"

"Are we under arrest?" Star asked, interrupting the government agent. He shook his head no, slowly, and opened his mouth to talk. Star didn't let him. "Then we do not have to go anywhere with you," she stated, victoriously. She stood there, a seventeen year old girl who didn't seem to contribute in any of the classes I'd had her in, wearing a flow-y white t-shirt and short shorts that seemed to scream that she was not remotely interested in school. She received average marks in English, and I had assumed this was true for all of her other classes. I know to not judge anyone by their appearance, but I'd apparently done it with Daniel, Samantha, Tucker, and Star. Her back was straight, she looked intensely interested and knowledgeable, and she had the air of a lawyer about her, like the beginning of a tamer version of Elle Woods from Legally Blonde.

And the Guys in White stood there, shocked that she of all people would defy them. Star walked by them and lead everyone who didn't want to give their statement to the Guys in White outside the building. Which meant we were leaving Madeline, Jack, and Valerie behind.

I don't know why they didn't leave with us, especially Madeline and Jack. They hate ghosts, I know this. But I also know that they love their son. As we exited the building, I couldn't help but look back to see if they were bounding after us.

They weren't there.

Obviously, they must think the agents are wrong, and that Halfas don't exist, right? I put my hand up to my forehead and rubbed my bald head. Maybe their love for their son isn't as great as I thought it was. Maybe I had been misjudging them, too. It didn't matter, though. My thoughts continued to swirl as I stepped out of the building, and I was swept into the school's evacuation protocol that I needed to complete so everyone could be accounted for. At least, of the students who were left, who remained loyal to the hero they adored.

* * *

Ok, so I'm two months late, I know. I'm so so so so sorry. Good news, my next chapter's written. Great news, I'm uploading it shortly after I upload this one. Bad news, I got no deadline for the next one. Good and bad news, I think I'm close to done. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

The Guys in White are hated now, widely and secretly. I have not met or heard from anyone who likes them since Daniel, Samantha, and Tucker disappeared. And five years is a long time to live without knowing of one person who disagrees on an issue.

To be fair, the Guys in White basically run an Oligarchy which limits the rights of citizens. They were allowed to do because of multiple actions the agency took or influenced involving invoking martial law, propaganda, and, most of all, bribery. No one leaves their house after nine o'clock at night or before sunrise in the morning. We were put on rations for a short time, despite the whole system not making any sense for what the government was doing. No weapons are allowed at all. No ghost hunting weapons, no guns, nothing. No court action could stop them, as they claimed Amity Park was in a war zone and all of these actions helped keep us safe. Even when the court ruled in the people's favor for our rights as citizens, their fear tactics keep us in line. If a citizen speaks out against the Guys in White, they will invariably be beaten by GIW 'Loyalists' that do not exist.

And no one can leave. That's the worst part. No one can leave Amity Park, and no people can come in. Neither can communications; all of the ability for the people to speak to the world outside has been cut off. It's terrifying.

Even Jack and Madeline hate the agency, despite their support of actions against ghosts. I don't blame them, though. They were only let out of jail for obstruction of justice six months ago, and I can not imagine they liked the scene they saw coming back into society. Their house had been seized, and the compensation the Fentons received was probably about half of what the house was actually worth. Eminent domain is a brutal process normally; the Guys in White made it horrific by stealing the work left in the house and claiming it as their own. Patents the Fentons filed were controlled by the government, and they were given no compensation. Papers they had worked on for years were seized, finished, and published without their credit. They can barely afford a small apartment outside of Amity Park, and they can only work odd jobs where people don't care about their technical status as ex-felons. Their only silver linings are that their daughter was able to transfer from Harvard to the University of Michigan to get a full merit scholarship, that Jasmine is outside of Amity Park and doesn't have to experience these horrors, and that they have support of local Amity Park residents.

I still don't know whether their hatred for ghosts extends to their son or not, though I've never really asked. It doesn't matter anyway. If Daniel, Samantha, and Tucker did escape into the ghost zone like everyone theorized they did, they obviously didn't survive the destruction of the ghost zone that the Guys in White carried out once they seized the Fenton property. Although plenty of people thought that they were joking, no evidence to the contrary has popped up. No ghosts have been spotted in Amity Park since they made the announcement two months ago, and they even seem to have a plan in place to restart the old Amity Park government, much to everyone's cautious delight.

In fact, today there's a mayoral election across town. I voted early as an educator, but the race is pretty close. Vladimir Masters, who, much to the surprise of the populace, apparently has residence in Amity Park, seems to edge out Damon Grey according to last night's latest polls, but the margin of error could put Valerie's father on top. Either way, we would be soon finished with the Guys in White as our demonic rulers.

This is the only thing I could think about all day, which is why we read articles and analyzed them during my classes instead of the pop quizzes I had originally planned for my students. It was a tricky business, because so many of them were desperately trying to voice their opinions about the atrocities the Guys in White had committed. I couldn't let them get hurt, so the discussions danced around what all of the students in the room really wanted to talk about.

Which is why taking notes was such an important thing for me to do. I took the notes home with me, rewrote them so they weren't self-censored, and wrote an article. I hid it in my room, locked it tight, and hoped that I would be able to publish it soon.

I scarfed down my dinner and was barely starting to grade papers when a faint knocking sound came to my ear. I ignored it; my grades needed to be done soon, and writing the article had wasted precious time that I didn't really have. I would be awake for at least three more hours, and I wanted six hours of rest before the school day. I thought that the knocking would go away, as it was almost nine.

The knocking persisted, and became slightly louder.

I persisted, keeping my eyes focused on my paper. That was a poorly constructed sentence, though the argument the student was making was very strong. I circled the semicolon and wrote "not two complete sentences," and I was about to underline the poor word choice.

The knocking came again. Again, it was louder than the last time.

I looked at my watch, and realized this person wouldn't go away. They weren't my next door neighbors, who were elderly and didn't go outside. The mysterious knocker was willing to risk being caught outside after curfew. But why were they at my door?

They knocked again.

I gave into my curiosity and nervousness. I heaved myself out of my dining room chair and lumbered towards my mudroom.

The knocking was fainter this time. I turned, analyzing where it came from. The back door lead to louder results, but the dining room had been the room I heard the knocking the loudest. The only way someone could enter this room was through a large bay window, though there were curtains pulled across so I had privacy.

Now, I was worried. No one I knew would circumvent using a door, even if it was past curfew. But no one would break in; my house is alarmed, and very clearly so. I walked over to the window, thinking death was imminent, and pulled back the curtain. A young man with a familiar face rose so his eyes were above the ledge. I didn't quite recognize him; then his eyes flashed a brilliant, bright green.


	6. Chapter 6

I was housing a fugitive inside my house. He was sitting at my dining room table, and I was in the kitchen. We had chatted briefly for a minute, and I needed to escape the room to collect my thoughts, so I had asked Daniel if he wanted tea, and he delightedly accepted my offer.

I had to collect my thoughts. On the positive side of the situation, I could figure out where Daniel had been for the past five years. He's not a weak fugitive, either; if push was going to come to shove, he would be able to protect me and maybe help me escape so I could publish my article and shed light on the authoritarian state that the Guys in White held us in. On the negative side, if the Guys in White ever found out that this happened, or suspected it, they could arrest me. Or send their "loyalists" after me. Daniel wouldn't necessarily be here to prevent it.

The kettle started whistling, snapping me out of my train of thought. I poured the tea, got out a tray, and grabbed the half-empty, one-day-until-expiring carton of milk that was stuck in the door of my refrigerator and put that and the small sugar container that sat on the countertop next to my coffee pot on the tray. I took a deep breath and walked back into the dining room.

"Thank you, Mr. Lancer," Daniel said, raising his hands from his lap to the table. His eyes nervously flitted around the room, and I set the tray in front of him. "Wait, aren't you having any?" He asked, not making eye contact with me.

"No, I'm not going to drink caffeine at nine thirty at night," I replied, trying to keep my voice calm.

Daniel quickly made his tea, keeping his eyes on his task. He took a sip and sighed. He looked up and finally made eye contact. He looked like he was going to start speaking, but I cut him off.

"Before you start, why me?" I asked coolly. Daniel paused, thinking,

"Well, the first reason is that I don't think the Guys in White will suspect me coming to you for help. The second reason is that I… trust you, I guess, more than anyone else left in Amity Park, at least. The third is because your house is nearest to the portal that I went through, so I wouldn't be out in the open as long." He licked his lips and took another sip of tea.

"Okay, that all makes sense. Although, how do you know about the Guys in White?"

"I've been keeping tabs on Amity Park. Every ghost, whether they're in the Ghost Zone or not, has been."

"So the Ghost Zone is…"

"Still kicking, yeah. The G.I.W. lied when they said it was destroyed. Though they're still certainly trying to accomplish that goal."

"Interesting."

There was an awkward pause, and Daniel again sipped his tea.

"Why did you not help us?" I asked suddenly, somewhat angrily. This question seemed to catch Daniel by surprise. He finished his tea before he answered.

"I did try, at first," he started explaining, "it was hard, but with a ton of help from Tucker and Sam we delayed the Guys in White's plan to take over Amity by… a couple months." He paused. "It wasn't enough to stop it, but after their plan started going into effect, they started attempting to destroy the Ghost Zone, and our attention mainly turned to stopping that horrible plan, and we were successful with that, at least."

"I, I think I understand why it might be important for you to stop the destruction of the Ghost Zone, seeing as you art part ghost, but what about Tucker and Sam? Why were they inv-"

"Well, for one because we're friends, and good friends, at that," Daniel replied, instantly. "Secondly, and probably more important to everyone else, is that the G.Z. is so interconnected with this plane of existence that destroying one starts to destroy the other. It would've taken time, but within the next century or so this plane would've been entirely in shreds."

"In shreds… how?"

"Well, the laws of physics would've started to become wonky first, specifically gravitation. Then probably thermodynamics, and other laws of nature… I'm not entirely sure of the order of these things, but it would mean no life anywhere within the universe. Not just Earth, or our solar system, but everything would just… stop functioning properly."

"O-oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, thank you for stopping them, then."

"We're still working on continuing to stop them, but you're welcome, I guess."

There was another pause in the conversation, but it was more comfortable, though still somewhat stiff.

"Where'd all of the ghosts… go? The last two months, I mean."

Danny sighed, and his face hardened. "This is where I need the help of people from Amity, at least. That's why I'm here."

"Excuse me?"

"We're planning an attack on the Guys in White. Full-scale, all out, nothing left behind. All of the ghosts, all of them, are going to help in some way and we are going to destroy their information, their research, their base, everything we can get our hands on."

"What?" I gasped.

"Yeah, I know. It seems extreme. But what else can we do? The Guys in White are not going to let their control slip unless something happens to weaken them, so -"

"But the elections!' I cried. "They will push out the Guys in White, either Masters or Grey-"

"Masters is working with the Guys in White," Daniel interrupted angrily. "He's a fucking ghost and he's helping to destroy the Ghost Zone, and he's going to destroy the entire universe because he can't get what he wants…"

Before Daniel could fully get into a rant, because that's clearly what was happening, I cut it. "Masters? A ghost? That is working with the Guys in White?"

"Well, he's also a halfa, but he provided the valuable resource of money and a way to get more with the underhanded technique of using his ghost powers to the Guys in White. Neither party broadcasts their cooperation because why the fuck would that make any sense in the world ever unless they had this plan a long time ago…" Daniel caught himself and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I hate the Guys in White and Vlad so much."

"I didn't notice," I deadpanned. Daniel laughed at my unconcealed sarcasm, and I laughed, too, for the first time in years. It quieted, and the following silence that ensued was finally comfortable. Daniel made himself another cup of tea, and I watched quietly, gathering my thoughts. Daniel took a sip, then continued to speak.

"Anyway, the election's rigged. They're going to make a show of counting the ballots, and it's going to be extremely close, but they've got Vlad all lined up to be the new mayor. And he'll lift restrictions, and people will be able to voice discontent, but the quote-unquote loyalists will still be thriving, and the police force will still have weapons generously donated to them by the Guys in White to keep Amity safe from any rogue ghost that wasn't in the Ghost Zone when it was destroyed. They've also been able to pretty much make Amity sound like a horrible place to go, so when the roads open up, people will probably leave here in droves -I know I would leave if this entire situation happened to me- without many people coming in. It will leave them with a fairly empty testing ground, low taxes, and a mayor who doesn't give a fuck about what they do to any citizens or the world," Daniel explained.

"Well, that's not good."

"So Sam, Tucker, and I thought getting support amongst the people in Amity would be a good idea, because if we can get them to act, at least some of them, then we stand an entirely better chance at invading the Guys in White compound so we can save the world."

"And you've come to me for help," I reasoned.

"That's the fourth reason why I came to you. You're a great writer, persuasive and everything. We need pamphlets, ways to convince people that resisting is good. We won't get everyone, but you know people who don't report stuff like this, right?" I nod, and Daniel continues, "and they probably will, too. So if we can get the word out, people who want to help will know what to do."

"That's probably a plan that would work nicely," I comment.

"Yeah, except one problem, we need to get the pamphlets out-"

"Before people start leaving."

"Yeah."

"Well, the election results will be contested, if you say that the Guys in White are rigging it to be close. Which is a mistake, probably, but good for us." Daniel smiled, and I grinned back at him. I continued, "Then the mayor won't be sworn in until January, which gives us another four months or so. And then martial law will have to be lifted slowly, so only pieces of Amity will be able to go out at once, most likely."

"So five -wait, lowball it, four and a half- months to write up, print, and distribute. Then we'll have to gather and inform everyone of the full plan."

"Tight schedule, but if you have most of the plan-"

"We do."

"-and if the plan doesn't require training-"

"A week's worth at most."

"-then you'll probably be able to make it work," I finished, with a small grin.

"Awesome!" Daniel pumped his fist in the air and sighed with relief. "Thank you so, so much, Mr. Lancer."

"Daniel-

"Danny, please call me Danny."

"-Danny, you're very welcome. I have plenty enough to thank you for, so it is my pleasure. And call me Will, alright?"

"Alrighty then, Will. You know what to write, and everything?"

"Be back this weekend. I'm going to attempt to have a first draft done Friday night or Saturday morning."

Daniel nods. "Thanks again."

A second later, there was no fugitive in my house. There was also no one to protect me from the crimes against the authoritarian rule I was going to rebel against.

* * *

Oh. So here's a lot more exposition. Like, a lot. Sorry about that (Not really because it needed to happen at some point). Um, sorry about sporadic updates? They're still gonna be sporadic, it's been and will continue to be a wild summer for me. I'm also already seeing pacing problems when re-reading this shit, but I'm gonna finish before fixing it. At least, that's the plan right now. Anyway, thanks for reading!


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